


My Mistakes Were Made For You

by Lo Turner-Kane (doujinbag)



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Future, Greasers, Happy Ending, Hospitals, M/M, Making Love, One Night Stands, Pining, Reincarnation, So many tags, Suicide, World War II, actually a weird kind of pining, nightclubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doujinbag/pseuds/Lo%20Turner-Kane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A million lifetimes together, a million chances at love, and they continue getting torn apart. Will Miles and Alex ever be able to find a life together in which they may both stay safe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Mistakes Were Made For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pengoop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pengoop/gifts).



> Alas, after three weeks of struggling to write this, I have finished it... at 4am on a school night.  
> I make good life decisions, obviously.  
> Reincarnation fic, yay! Everyone loves those!  
> Tagged as major character death because you can't reincarnate unless you die. So yeah.  
> I hope this didn't suck too much. Woo. As always, feedback is terribly appreciated.  
> (Shitty summary is shitty. Sorry.)

**1942 - Austria**

"They're coming to get me, Miles."

Alex stares down at his friend, lips quivering and his face painted half black by the shadows cast over him. The rest of him is pale white, even more than usual as the bright moonlight seeps through the small attic window and refracts off his skin. Miles blinks himself awake, a bit confused at the look of dread on his best friend's face.

"Why are you on top of me?" he groans, still half asleep. "Get _off,_ you're heavy."

"They're gonna _get_ me, Miles."

"Who?" Miles scowls until a look of realization crosses his face. "Oh. Oh, no, Alex, don't say that. You're _fine,_ we're safe here-"

"But they already took my mum and dad. And they're- they're gonna-" Alex bursts into tears, throwing himself off of Miles's body and into a small heap on the floor. Miles can feel his blood run cold at Alex's panic.

"Hey, hey, come here, Alex. Come here." Miles lifts up the blanket and motions for Alex to crawl in with him. Alex obliges after hesitating for a moment, still crying as Miles holds him close.

"You're all I have left, Miles," Alex weeps. "Don't let them take me, don't let them take me..."

"You're not going anywhere," Miles says determinedly. "I promise. I will never let anything happen to you."

It's a sad thing, really. Thirteen year old boys should be able to laugh and play outside, to sing as loud as they want and trade baseball cards on the front steps of each other's houses. Thirteen year old boys should not have to worry about what night together will be their last, or if the brutal soldiers with thick accents and odd designs on their uniforms will come to take them away. Thirteen year old boys should be innocent, not locked up in a small annex together for the sake of their own lives.

Damn this godforsaken war and damn those unforgiving Nazi soldiers stationed all around their country.

Miles's mum greets them both in the morning, two plates in her hands. While their daily rations are little to nothing, that doesn't prevent Mrs. Kane from trying to make the best of it all.

"It was my grandmother's fine china," Miles explained to Alex the first time they ever ate together. "Some of the few things we have left."

Since Alex began living with them, Miles has broken probably three or four of the plates for various reasons, none of which has his mother ever frowned upon. They're all just fine with being together, no matter how many dishes get broken in that time.

"Feeling better today?" Miles asks after wolfing down his breakfast.

"Yes, thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for anything, Alex. You know that."

"Still. Whether or not you think I need to, I still want to. Thank you for everything. I could honestly never ask for a better friend than you, Miles."

They have their first kiss that night.

Alex wakes up from another nightmare, his limbs flailing as he breaks into a cold sweat.

"Alex?" Miles says, his voice right next to the other boy's ear. "Hey, calm down, I've got you. You're okay."

"They got me. They got me. They took me away and they got me, Miles. _They got me."_

"It was only a dream. Breathe, Alex, breathe. I'm right here, I have you safe." Miles repeats his soothing words like a strong prayer and he refuses to let go of Alex, giving him a sympathetic look. Alex has been having these nightmares for ages and honestly, Miles has too, but he doesn't react as strongly as Alex. Most likely because Alex saw his own parents get ripped away from him right before his eyes, and Miles has yet to experience that. Hopefully never.

It takes a few long minutes, but Alex is finally able to breathe clearly, tears no longer falling down his cheeks. "Thank you," he whispers, pressing his face into Miles's nightshirt. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Miles doesn't bother reminding him that he needs no thanking. He doesn't bother telling him that his shirt is getting all wet from his tears, and he doesn't bother with the fact that Alex's hair is a mess. Stroking your fingers through someone's hair isn't exactly an action that can be taken as a merely friendly notion. "Alex," he finally says, "you do know we're safe, right? Hell, this is the safest annex in the area, my father's sure of it. They can't find us. And if they did, _if_ they did... I'm not letting you go alone."

Alex nods after a short while, blinking and looking up at Miles. "Even if it meant your life could be saved?"

"I would never abandon you. You go, I go."

"But _why?"_

Miles holds his breath and closes his eyes tightly. "Because I love you, Alex."

Alex isn't sure what to do with this information, how to respond, what to do or say... So he kisses him. It's nothing extravagant; neither of them have kissed anyone before and it honestly takes both of them by surprise, but they don't seem to mind. Miles keeps his hands on Alex's back and Alex lets his lips move freely against Miles's, nipping lightly at his bottom lip with his teeth as if he completely knows what he's doing. They're simply two young boys in a haze of a world trying to drown it out with dreams and songs and now, kisses.

They fall asleep happily, Alex never once unwrapping his arms from Miles. However, their next day takes a different course. The next day, their entire lives change.

They're in the middle of having their second meal of the day when suddenly, they hear a loud shriek come from Miles's mother. The boys exchange glances and neither of them can feel their hearts beating anymore. They've been found.

Miles is quick to pull Alex under the bed with him, crawling back against the wall and lying down as flat as he can, hoping to maybe even disintegrate into the wooden floor. As usual, his prayers aren't granted, and their breathing hitches when the door to their annex gets kicked open.

The boys can hear two men yelling in deep, booming voices and they close their eyes tightly. They hold hands, feeling each other's pulses pound through their veins. Miles chokes back a sob. Alex begins a silent prayer as he pulls himself as close to Miles as he can get.

 _Dear God, don't let them take Miles from me. I will give anything to stay with him. I'm sorry that our love is not how you would prefer it to be. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I love Miles and I would do anything,_ anything, _to keep him forever and ever. If not in this life, then the next one, please. I beg of you, God. I beg of you. Grant me one dying wish. Don't strip Miles from me, don't take him away._  
_Amen._

The bed is knocked over and their hiding place is revealed to the two soldiers. Without mercy, they're dragged to their feet and Alex begins to cry. Miles doesn't let his hand go even once until they're forced away from each other, each giving the other a helpless, pleading look with their eyes as they're dragged down the stairs.

They're shipped off to a camp together. Their time of death is the same, both being shoved into a "shower" at the same moment. Alex screams for Miles to run but it would be no use anyways.

Alex begs God to keep his promise. He begs and screams until he can't feel his throat anymore, and then, _nothing._

\---

**1981 - Florida**

Miles walks into the nightclub slowly, keeping his hand fixed over his pocket. The music in this place is shitty and it reeks of drug addicts and bad sex, as to be expected.

He's not sure why he's here. He should be at home, writing new music or sulking over his breakup or, better yet, actually fucking _sleeping_ for once. It's not much of a surprise that he's doing none of those things. He can only handle being alone for so long.

He fills up on glass after glass of beer, doing his best to ignore the irritating girls flocked around him like geese. That title seems to fit most of them, what with their high-pitched squawking and long scrawny necks. Miles blocks them out with more alcohol.

The girls finally give up on Miles and wander off to go dance with men who "seem like more fun". _Great,_ Miles thinks. _None of you are even good dancers anyway._

He breaks out of his angsty drunken thoughts when another man sits down next to him and smiles. "Had enough to drink yet?" he teases, apparently having taken note of how much Miles has had to drink so far.

"Ah, fuck it," Miles replies. "Alcohol might not help but it sure is easier to use."

The other man raises an eyebrow and nods. "Do you drink to remember or drink to forget?" It's an odd question to ask a stranger, but Miles is too drunk to care.

"I try to remember the good things and forget the bad," he slurs. "So far, it's having a reverse effect." He tries to laugh but all he feels is a pain in his chest.

"What's your name?" the stranger asks.

"Miles Kane," Miles states. "And you?"

"Alex Turner." A smile, soft and sweet, crosses his face. "I don't suggest drinking much more unless killing your liver is your forte." Alex produces two cigarettes from his pocket and offers one to Miles, who takes it gladly. "Besides, it's no fun conversing with someone who won't even remember it in the morning." He lights Miles's cigarette before his own and inhales for a moment, then blows the smoke off to the side. "So, what's the matter? You're a nice looking guy, you should be jumping at the chance whenever a pretty girl walks over here."

"They're not _pretty,_ they're migraine-inducing," Miles groans, raising his cigarette back to his lips.

"Even the one with the pink boa?"

 _"Especially_ her. She wouldn't shut up if her life depended on it."

"Oh shit, man," Alex says. "But that's my _sister."_

Miles's face falls at that. "Oh, no, I'm sorry. I- shit, I didn't mean to offend-"

 _"Relax,"_ Alex laughs. "I'm kidding, I don't even know her." He pats Miles's shoulder jokingly, but all Miles can think about is how big Alex's hands are, how warm they are, how nice they'd feel holding his hips while-

"So, _Miles,"_ Alex says, interrupting his train of thought. "Is that the only reason you're not off grinding against one of those _migraine-inducing_ girls on the dance floor? Or-"

"I just had a breakup a couple weeks ago," Miles says bluntly. "Hence the whole 'drinking myself into oblivion' thing."

"I'm sorry," Alex says. "Ah, was it her idea, or yours, or...?"

"It was _his_ idea to cheat on me," Miles says, greatly emphasizing the "his".

"Oh. Oh, oh, oh, I get you. Yeah, I get what you're saying." Alex nods, tapping ash off the end of his cigarette at the same time Miles takes a drag off his. "I am too."

"You're what? Recently broken up? Cheating? Being cheated on?"

 _"Gay."_ Alex coughs and steals a shot from the person on his other side when they're not looking. He downs it and shakes his head at the burn in his throat. "I hope all goes well with you, man."

"Thanks. You-" Miles nearly says _"you too"_ but decides against it, steering the conversation in a new direction. "-wanna get out of here?"

Alex prematurely stubs out his cigarette and shrugs. "Sure," he agrees. "Why not?"

They decide on going to Alex's house, meaning a slightly buzzed Alex gets to drive a very drunk Miles home in his car. He doesn't mind it one bit; Miles is cute and maybe a well-deserved fuck will get his mind off his initial plans for the night. He can't help but shake the feeling that he's met Miles somewhere else, but _where?_

Or, more accurately, _when?_

Inside Alex's room, Alex is quite pleased to find that Miles is a _damn_ good top. It makes him wonder how good he is when he's not drunk. They're a mess of sheets and sweat and alcohol-laced tongues tracing over one another's skin. All they can hear are moans and the September wind howling outside the window above the creaking bed.

Afterwards, it takes Miles every ounce of strength he owns to keep from falling asleep. He sits up behind Alex and shares a post-coital smoke with him quietly, but Alex lets him finish it off as he gets up to go to the bathroom. Miles feels alive. It's the first time in _ages_ that he's slept with someone, no strings attached, and he feels free. His eyes nearly shut with a smile stuck on his face, but he's rudely shaken out of his sleepy daze by a loud crash in the bathroom.

"Alex?" he calls, scrambling to put his underwear back on. Less exposed now, he runs over to the bathroom door and bangs on it impatiently. "Alex! Are you okay?"

"Go away!" Alex shouts. "Go- go home!"

"Alex, I _can't_ leave."

"Just... stay out of it! Go to bed, Miles!"

"Alex-"

_"Go!"_

Miles doesn't listen. Instead, he fiddles with the locked doorknob and nudges the door with his shoulder until finally, he breaks in. He finds Alex sitting slouched against the bathtub with a syringe in his hand, helplessness hollowing his eye sockets.

"Alex..." Miles says warily. "What happened?"

"I was- I was just gonna shoot up, and- and I did something wrong, I don't know what I did, I don't know what happened. I just feel so tired..."

Miles unties the shoelace from around Alex's arm and sets it aside. He convinces Alex to drop the syringe and strokes his fingers through his sweat-drenched hair, doing his best to calm Alex down. "You're buzzed and sleepy," he says. "Come on, let's get to bed."

He makes sure Alex is comfortable on the bed before slipping under the covers with him. He holds the brown-eyed man close and listens to his shaky breathing until they both fall asleep.

Miles wakes up to find Alex still sleeping and he gets fully dressed, then grabs a pen and piece of paper off Alex's bedside table.

_drugs are bad... stay safe._  
_call me if you need anything._  
_miles_

He writes his phone number below his name and gives Alex one last sad look. He rushes into his bathroom- evidence of last night's heroin mishap still on the floor- and throws up in the toilet before finally leaving, ignoring his hangover-caused headache as he begins his walk to go find his car again.

Months pass and Miles doesn't hear from Alex again. He tries not to mind it too much; it was just a one night stand and nothing more.

But if it was really nothing more, then why does Miles still feel an aching in his chest whenever he remembers him?

It's January now, a few weeks after the new year begins. Miles wakes up at noon to the annoying sound of his telephone ringing off the hook. He groans and pulls his blanket over his head to try and drown it out, but it just won't stop. Eventually, he gives in and picks up the phone, holding it to his ear with a grimace. "Eh- hello?"

"Miles?"

"Yes, this is he, who's speaking?" He rubs the sleep from his eyes and yawns.

"Alex Turner." Miles's heart freezes. "You probably don't remember me, but... um-"

"I remember you," Miles says quickly. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm sick." Alex's voice sounds like it's wavering and Miles doesn't know how to react. "I'm sick and they don't know what it is... And the doctors want to have you in the make sure you're not sick either. You and everyone else I've slept with or... done drugs around."

"Oh." It's just barely a whisper as it leaves Miles's lips. "Okay." _Say more, you dumbass, say something._

"I'm sorry," Alex says. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's fine," Miles comforts blandly. "It's okay."

"Just... be in the hospital before seven tonight or... or whatever." Alex sighs heavily. Miles doesn't say anything. "I'm sorry again," Alex finally repeats.

"Don't be. It's not your fault," Miles says. Alex doesn't even say goodbye before he hangs up in shame.

Miles goes to the hospital that night to get tested, but not once does he see Alex. He's just too fucking _scared._ What are you supposed to say to someone you may or may not have gotten sick, or vice versa?

What are you supposed to do?

The results come in a couple of weeks later, just at the beginning of February. Miles's fingers fidget with the envelope and he nearly considers burning it without even opening it, but he needs to know. He closes his eyes and rips it open, unfolds the paper before him, and prays-prays- _prays_ it's not bad.

He tests negative. He's _clear._

He breathes a sigh of relief before suddenly, he realizes this doesn't change Alex's situation. Alex is still sick. Alex is still _dying_ and they don't know why. Nobody knows why.

Miles forces himself to hike up his skirt and go actually _see_ Alex. Being cowardly has never done anything for him, and continuing that trend really wouldn't do him any good right now. He buys Alex roses and hopes he isn't allergic.

The first thing Alex says when he spots the red and white roses in Miles's arms is, "Well, well, well. If it isn't little candy _Kane."_

Miles laughs breathily and sets down the bouquet next to Alex's hospital bed. "I hope you like them," he says. "I should've seen the 'candy Kane' joke coming, huh?"

"Hmm, you should have." Alex smirks and brushes the delicate petals of the flowers with his fingers. "They're really nice. Thank you so much."

"Yeah, of course. You're welcome." Miles settles himself in the chair next to Alex's bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Not too bad," Alex assures him. "Oh, and... they found where I picked it up from. Some guy in one of my drug-slash-sex circles shared a needle with me in November and... that's how I got it? Apparently?" He fiddles with his fingers and sighs. "I hate how they know _how_ I got it, how to test for it, but not how to _fix_ it. Or what it really is. They think it's part of that epidemic that started last year, but I... fuck, I don't know. I hate this. I _hate_ it."

"You have full right to be angry. Be as fucking mad as your heart'll let you be," Miles says. "Just... don't forget to be happy too, y'know? Smile sometimes. Enjoy the little things in life while you still can."

"Miles?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever lost someone before?"

Miles waits before shaking his head _yes._ "Lots of people, Alex."

"I'm sorry."

"Why would you say sorry?"

"I'm sorry I'm going to be another person on that list."

Miles gulps and stares at his shoes. "It's fine. It's fine, it's fine, please don't worry about that. Don't apologize for anything, Alex."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miles's visit is cut short by the doctors who want to fuss and fiddle with Alex. Miles waves goodbye and does his best not to choke up as he leaves.

Miles visits Alex whenever he can. Alex only gets progressively worse over time, but that doesn't stop Miles from getting closer, _attached._

The month of June catches Miles by surprise when he sees color restored in Alex's face again, light in his brown eyes once more. "Alex," he whispers. "You look... _fantastic."_

"I feel good too. Stronger. Like these past five months haven't even had any effect on me." Alex smiles and stands up next to the bed, motioning for Miles to come closer. "Thank you," he whispers, putting his hands on Miles's shoulders. "Thank you for not leaving me. Not with the heroin thing, not with this sickness... You're the kindest person I've honestly ever known. I can never thank you enough."

"Why do those words sound so familiar?" Miles says quietly, staring Alex in the eyes. "I feel like I've met you somewhere else and I can't pinpoint _where_ and it's driving me insane."

Alex smiles as he presses their foreheads together. "I know exactly what you mean," he whispers. "I think I knew you in another life."

Miles beams at that. "I hope I meet you in our next one, then."

And, as the world would have it, Alex dies that night.

Miles doesn't understand. _He was fine, he's fine, the doctors are just confused, he's not dead, he can't be dead..._.

The doctors say his sudden strength is a common thing to experience before death. One last surge of energy, one more chance for someone's soul to shine through before they move on. Whatever they try to fill up his ears with, it all sounds like bullshit and he doesn't want to hear any of it.

He goes back to the club that night and drinks, smokes, snorts, and shoots up on everything he can get his hands on before taking his last breath on the floor of the nightclub bathroom.

\---

**1964 - London**

"Man, this is gonna be great."

"Shh! I think they're coming onstage now!"

"Don't you _shh_ me, _Nicholas,_ I'm the reason we're here in the first place."

"Don't get a big head."

"It's true, _I_ got the tickets. And you got... what? A free ride here from Matt's mum?"

"Shut up, Alex, they _are_ coming onstage now."

"About time."

Standing in the second row away from the stage are four teenage boys, friends for ages and all wearing their black leather jackets, the look completed with their greased-up hair. In the middle stands none other than Alex Turner, high school heartthrob and a _professional_ Beatles fanatic. All the boys have been anticipating this show for months now, and the minute their favored band walks onstage, they forget what it's like to stay calm.

Halfway through the set, Alex feels someone nearly knock him over, resulting in a string of curses flying from his mouth. "I'm so sorry!" the guy who ran into him says. Alex nearly gives him a piece of his mind before looking at him and stepping back a bit.

"It's fine," he says, popping up his jacket collar. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"You sure?" This guy has a nice accent and absolutely dazzling eyes, and Alex can't look away from his mouth as he speaks.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."

The guy nods and takes his place on the other side of Matt. Only one person between Alex and this mystery man, only one person...

The whole crowd is singing the last song together just before the show ends, Matt holding onto Alex and Alex grasping onto Jamie and Jamie clutching onto Nick. They're mature teenage boys. They're obviously _not_ going to cry.

As everyone begins filing out of the stadium once the show's over, Alex pats his friends on the back giddily and does his best to not stare at the boy from earlier, but their eyes meet and Alex feels his cheeks flourish with scarlet. The guy runs up to him, bearing a cheeky little grin.

"Hey," he breathes. "I could hear you singing earlier. And, uh... and I just wanted to say it's nice. Your voice, I mean. You've got talent."

Alex smirks and shakes his hand gratefully. "Thank you, thank you. Ah... what's your name?"

"Miles," he replies.

"I'm Alex. It's nice t'meet you."

"You too." Miles places a cigarette between his teeth and eyes Alex carefully. "Ah, so you are one of _them."_

"One of what? Who's 'them'?"

"A rocker." Miles laughs and motions to Alex's getup once he lights his cigarette. "We have a whole gang of 'em in my town. Quite the arrogant ars-" Miles cuts himself off to smoke his cigarette before it has a chance to die out. "Nevermind that. You don't seem like a complete jerk."

"Thanks," Alex snorts. "I think 'complete' is the key word there."

"Oh, is it?"

"Mhm. Just as my fr-"

"Alex, get your bloody arse over here and stop flirting with everything that moves!"

"-iends."

Nick rushes up to Alex's side laughing, tugging at his arm. "Come on, Al, we're _leaving-_ who's this?"

Alex opens his mouth to answer, but Miles steps forward and introduces himself. "Miles Kane," he says. "Nice to meet you both. I... guess you'll be off, then?"

"Yeah," Alex breathes shyly. "Have a nice night. Maybe I'll run into you at another show someday?"

"Sure thing," Miles replies. "See you 'round."

They certainly see each other sooner than expected.

Alex and his friends stay in a small hotel just a few streets away from the concert venue, planning on going back home tomorrow. The minute they go upstairs to enter their room, Alex's jaw drops halfway at the sight of none other than Miles walking down the hall as well.

"Hey!" Miles laughs, waving at him. "What're the odds, huh?"

"Aha, yeah," Alex says awkwardly. "We're stayin' the night so we don't risk getting home in the dark. It's a bit of a drive from here to home."

"Ah, I see," Miles nods. "I'm only staying one night as well, but mostly because I plan on getting drunk as all hell and my parents would never allow that if I was home."

Alex raises his eyebrows and he can't help but smirk. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Almost seventeen. You?"

"Seventeen already," Alex says. "Didn't think you looked much like a drinker."

"Yeah. I'm not an alcoholic, though. That stuff's all messed up." He chuckles and rubs at the nape of his neck, failing to meet Alex's eyes with his own. "You're welcome to join me if you like."

Alex pats at his hair and sways back and forth. "Once my friends fall asleep," he says after a short while. "Which shouldn't be too long from now."

"All right then," Miles says cheerfully. "I'll wait for you. Just knock on the door when you get here and I'll let you in."

"Cool, cool... what room number?"

Miles pats the door next to him and smiles. "Five-oh-five. I'll be waiting." He disappears into the room, leaving Alex to do nothing more than walk into the hotel room where his friends already are.

Alex doesn't let himself fall asleep while waiting for the others to do so. And, once all three of the other boys go to sleep, Alex quietly sneaks out the door, leaving his jacket and shoes behind.

He approaches Miles's room stealthily and stares at the shining golden numbers on the door, watching his reflection in them. The numbers nearly burn themselves into his mind for a reason he's not exactly sure of. 505. 505. 505.

Three small, quick raps on the door is all it takes for Miles to swing open the door, loud rock 'n' roll music blaring into the hallway as he pulls Alex inside. "I was afraid you might not come," Miles says. "I'm glad you did."

"Me too," Alex says happily. "I like this song. Can never remember the name, though."

"Me neither," Miles laughs loudly. He's already plenty drunk, Alex can tell, but he doesn't mind. It just makes the atmosphere feel freer. "Best thing about this hotel is they don't ask for identification, so I can get as much of this hotel wine as I please."

Alex laughs and crosses his legs into a pretzel shape as he sits down on the bed. Miles pours him a glass of wine and hands it to him, Alex not even hesitating to drink it. He grimaces at the bitter taste and shakes his head. "Tastes foul," he coughs blatantly.

"Not after the fourth glass, it doesn't," Miles giggles.

By two in the morning, they've collectively finished off a bottle and a half of the hotel-provided wine, and now they're simply talking about anything and everything as if they've known each other for ages despite only meeting hours before.

"Alex," Miles hiccups, "are you... are you in _looove?"_

"No. No, no, no," Alex says, sprawling out on the bed like it's his own. He sighs happily as he lets his head spin in circles and he looks at Miles. "Love is... stupid. Dumb. It's shitty. I _thought_ I loved Ariiieelllle... nope. Noooo, no. She didn't love me anyway. Besiiiiiides, girls are strange. Very strange. _Really_ very strange."

"You got that right," Miles agrees.

"What about you?"

"I... dated a cute little bird for a whiiiile... name was Suki. But no, no, no, no, not for me. Nooottttt for meee."

"My mum saaaaid I'm confused. I'm _supposed_ to like girls. They're nice, yeah, buuuuut... hm." Alex puts his hands over his face and it's not clear if he's giddy or upset.

"Alex?"

"Mmhhhmm?"

"Is it... boooys that you like?"

Alex grins and nods. "Yeeeaah."

Miles crawls across the bed and lies on his side, facing Alex. "Me too."

They both laugh for a moment but soon quiet down, staring each other in the eyes. There's something between them that they can feel, something more than the alcohol, something that dives deeper than "chemistry". Whatever it is, they can feel it, and it's pulling their faces closer and closer and closer until at last, their lips meet. For once in his life, Alex doesn't care about messing up his hair. He lets Miles run his fingers through it, lets his hands wander over his body, allows Miles to completely possess him as his own. It feels almost as if he's finally attaining something he's been missing all his life despite never realizing he was searching for it. His heart feels complete, he feels warm, everything is falling into place and it's all revolving around _Miles._

This boy is making Alex feel things he's never experienced before. He's crying out Miles's name and the moans that fly out of his mouth should most likely be considered _sinful._ His fingers clench at Miles's hair and he completely loses himself in everything that Miles is doing to him. And finally, when Miles sends him flying over the edge, Alex can see _stars_ in his eyes and it takes ages for his breathing to return to normal speed.

"Oh, God, my prayer was granted," he whispers after a while, slowly falling out of his drunken stupor. "It's you. It's you."

Miles is already asleep by the time Alex comes to this realization. The music is still blaring, now playing "All My Loving" by the one and only band that Alex has ever really loved. Wonderfully fitting, as he now falls asleep next to the one and only man his soul can ever really love.

The next morning, Alex gets dressed slowly and prays Miles doesn't plan on kicking him out, or even worse, that he doesn't regret what they did last night. However, when Miles opens his eyes, the first thing he does is hug Alex from behind. "I knew we'd find each other someday," he says as if by reading Alex's mind. He presses gentle kisses to the nape of Alex's neck and runs his fingers over the dark purple marks he left. "As much as I hate to say it, you might have to cover these up. You know, so you don't get interrogated or anythin'."

"With what? I left my jacket in my hotel and anyways, it's not enough to conceal 'em."

Miles holds up a finger and walks over to his suitcase to get something out of it, but before he can, Alex suddenly gets up and runs into the bathroom to throw up. Bloody hangovers.

He splashes cool water on his face and when he gets back to Miles, Miles shoves a scarf in his hands. "I'm really sorry if you're feeling bad," he frowns. "Anyways... this is technically mine, but I'm giving it to you, so now it's yours."

"Thank you," Alex smiles. He wraps it around his neck and snuggles into it. "It's warm. I like it."

"Good," Miles says. "Ah... shit, it's already eleven, you should probably be getting back to your friends now, eh?"

"I suppose so, yeah," Alex sighs. "Promise me I'll see you again. _Promise me,_ Miles."

Miles kisses Alex's forehead and nods. "Of course we'll see each other again," he says. "How about... next Saturday? Can you catch a train back to London around noon? It's halfway between where we live, right?"

Alex nods quickly and kisses Miles's cheek one more time. "I'll see you then," he says. "You _better_ meet me, Kane."

"I will. I swear on my life." _Bad choice of words._

That next Saturday, Alex waits for Miles at the train station. It's taken him two days to convince his mum to let him come, but finally, he's here. All he has to do now is see Miles get off his train.

"C'mon, Kane, where are you?" he whispers to himself, staring down the tunnel at the tracks. Miles's train was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. Why is it so late?

He waits for hours. And, finally, when the sun sets and he's left in the dark with no one other than an elderly couple holding a dog to keep him company, he gets on a train to take him back to Stratford and keeps Miles's scarf tightly around his neck. He won't let himself get too upset.

Miles's train is on the front page of that Tuesday's paper, underneath the title _Fatal Train Derailment._

Alex shrieks into his scarf and no amount of soothing can ever calm him down.

\---

**1873 - Massachussets**

Miles Kane has spent years of his life practicing and perfecting his love of music. Proclaimed a prodigy at only age four by his father, he's never really gone on to do anything that hasn't revolved around music. He makes a living by giving piano lessons to the children of the town as well as some willing adults and once in a great while, he'll compose his own serenades. He never writes any lyrics for them, however; it just doesn't feel right. He's never been one for words. That was always Alex.

Alex. His name replays in Miles's head again and again every single day. Alex is real, Alex is not a figment of his imagination like he's been told many different times in all twenty-six years of his life. Visions of a brunet heartbreaker dance around in his mind again and again, leaving leather footprints across his frontal lobes every time he closes his eyes. He's had more than one restless night in his life due to this, of course.

After almost three decades, he wishes he'd just be able to forget this dream boy. Because while Miles is getting older with each second that ticks by, Alex never does. Alex is laughing, smiling, _kissing him_ with young lips in a world he's never seen before. In his imagination, Alex is waiting for him on the bed of a room he can't recall ever being in. Alex is in love with him in every scene that Miles has ever seen in his head.

Miles has never been considered a particularly sane man despite his genius musical talent. It's always the artists who are the mad, the broken, the lovelorn ones, isn't it?

April seventeenth, exactly one month after Miles's birthday. He's received small trinkets and pastries from friends and family, all of which he is grateful for, but he knows they don't understand that none of this is what he really longs for. All he's ever wanted it Alex.

Well, happy belated birthday to him.

Miles has just finished his 9am piano lesson with a small girl named Laura from a few blocks away, waving her off with a rehearsed smile, when a woman walks onto his porch, her dress puffing up around her waist and her hair pulled into a strict bun.

"Mr. Miles Kane, yes?" she says.

"Indeed I am, madam. How can I help you this fine morning?"

She sighs and turns around, ushering a young boy to step forward. "Alexander, would you please _quit_ being so shy? Mr. Kane is the best piano instructor in the state, he's going to help you improve."

"I don't wish to play piano, Mother," the boy pouts. _"You_ want me to play piano."

"Your father and I both agree that it's the best suitable activity for your free time. Now, come on, greet Mr. Kane," the woman scolds lightly.

"Hello, Mr. Kane," Alexander sighs.

"Call me Miles, it's all right," Miles says. He holds his breath as his eyes meet the boy's, big and brown and glimmering in the sunlight. _So achingly familiar._ "How old are you, Alexander?"

"Eleven years old," he mumbles. "What about you?"

"Alexander, be _polite-"_

"Don't worry, madam, it's quite all right," Miles says, holding up his hand. "I just turned twenty-six last month, thank you for asking."

"You're still younger than Mother!" Alexander laughs loudly.

"Now, that isn't very nice to your mother, is it?" Miles says gently, flicking his eyes to the woman, then back to Alexander.

"I s'pose not... Sorry, Mother."

The woman seems surprised by her son's newfound manners and smiles graciously. "Is it all right to fetch him again at half past eleven? I have a friend in town I must visit..."

"That's not a problem at all," Miles nods. He looks at Alexander and grins in the slightest. "Let's go see what we can teach you, hm?"

The lesson doesn't go nearly as drastically as initially feared. Miles finds that Alexander is a fast learner, quick to pick up on what each note means and where his fingers should go on the keys. "You're going great, Alexander," Miles finally says.

"Ugh, I only let my mother call me that," the boy groans. "Just... refer to me as Alex if you would. It's the shortened down version, and I like it better."

"Of course," Miles agrees. "Alex. It suits you." _Oh, if only you knew,_ he thinks with a heavy heart. At last, he's finally found Alex again, but the time is all so wrong. The scenario is completely doused with painful faults.

Several years pass. Alex is now nineteen and Miles is thirty-four. Alex's musical talents are absolutely _flawless_ and he can't even remember ever protesting against lessons in the first place. Miles has become not only his teacher but also his best friend in over eight years' time. Alex has confided _everything_ in Miles: when he was fourteen and found his father with a woman who was _not_ his mother, when he was sixteen and the girl whom he was courting at the time, Alexa, rejected his marriage proposal, and now, as he's told Miles several times about his fears over moving into his own cottage right outside of town.

It's a cold December night, nearing Alex's twentieth birthday next month, when they're having supper together in Miles's dining room. They make small talk to the first half of the meal, but then Alex sets his silverware down in sudden anguish, making a rather pained expression.

"What is it?" Miles asks worriedly. "What's the matter?"

"Why aren't you married, Miles?" Alex asks bluntly. "I've known you for almost ten years and never once have you so much as _mentioned_ a wife, whether it be past, present, or future. Why?"

Miles coughs into his napkin and shakes his head. "I don't feel that's an appropriate question, Alex."

"Oh, come _on_ now," Alex groans. "We're friends. Friends can talk about anything, right?"

"Alex..."

"Please just tell me. It can't be that bad."

Miles inhales deeply and stares down at his cleaned plate. "Maybe I don't want a wife."

"Then what's with all those things about love that you're always talking about? Is love just a pointless idea to you, then?"

"Of course it's not some 'pointless idea' to me, Alex, don't be ridiculous." Miles puts his head in his hands and grasps at loose strands of his hair. "God despises me, I'm sure He does."

"Why would you-"

"I desire a _husband,_ Alex. I long for a husband, but that is sinful and impossible and... oh, forget it already. Forget it."

Alex closes his mouth and blinks gently. "Oh," he says quietly. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Are you- are you _mad,_ Alex? Did you even hear what I just said? I'm a sin, I'm a godforsaken hom-"

"I heard you clearly," Alex shrugs. "I don't believe there's a single thing wrong with it."

"You don't?"

"No, of course not." Alex stands up and makes his way over to Miles at the other end of the table. "How could I?" Before Miles realizes it, Alex is kissing him, caressing him like a lifelong lover. He doesn't protest, doesn't push away. He merely lets Alex kiss him for as long as he desires and prays he never lets go.

"Miles! Answer me!"

Miles snaps his neck up to see Alex still sitting across from him at the table. It was merely a daydream, a true idea of his imagination.

"You need to leave," Miles says suddenly.

"What? I- I'm sorry for asking such a personal question, but-"

"Please leave. I don't think our friendship may work out any longer."

"Miles, you can't possibly mean that. Please, _please,_ don't make me go."

"Please, Alex." Miles feels his voice shake, his hands forming painfully tight fists around the tablecloth. "I'm not good for you. Go."

Alex lets himself out into the blizzard outside, not even bothering to put on his coat. Miles cleans up in the kitchen and soon weeps himself to sleep.

A warrant is issued a few days later for finding the location of Alex. He hasn't been seen by anyone since going to Miles's house on Thursday, and there's no doubt that suspicions are rising. He's never outwardly accused of having something to do with Alex's disappearance, but he knows the thought lingers in the minds of every citizen within a ten-mile radius.

They find Alex's body, cold and dead for days, in the snow only halfway between his and Miles's houses. It's declared that he forgot his coat before returning home and froze to death during the three-mile walk. Case closed.

Miles feels guilty, guilty, _guilty._

He hangs himself in his bedchamber using Alex's forgotten coat and prays the next life will be better.

\---

**2175 - Paris**

"Alex, eat your breakfast."

Alex's mother stands before him at the small kitchen table, tapping her foot on the ground. Fifteen-year-old Alex stares down at his small portion of eggs and toast, wishing the plate would merely evaporate. He's not hungry. He never is.

"You know, a hundred and fifty years ago, you'd be diagnosed with something called an eating disorder. They'd force you to eat. _I_ should force you to eat for once, for god's sake," his mother groans. "You never did this before I got remarried. What's wrong with you, huh? Alex, I understand you don't like your stepbrother, but that's no excuse to go and starve yourself. We have money now, we can actually _afford_ food-".

"I don't dislike my stepbrother," Alex murmurs.

"Then why are you always fighting with him?" His mother sighs and shakes her head. "Fine. You can starve. Don't whine later when you have an appetite." The plate is removed from the table and put in the stove to keep it warm for someone else in the household. Alex gets up and runs into his room, sitting on his cot with his knees to his chest.

 _Everyone is so oblivious,_ he thinks to himself. _They're all so worried about the weather or money or the history test over the Third World War and nobody's paying attention to anything that really matters._

Love is what really matters, he tells himself again and again. He's heard of things in the "old world"- pre-war, pre-universal poverty, before English was accepted as the only worldwide language- called films, which were apparently scenes put together that you could watch on a screen. Some of them were love stories. Alex is a hopeless romantic and he knows this. He wishes he can watch a romance film someday, despite how impossible that might be. Maybe losing himself in a fictional relationship will distract him from the fact that his own heart aches for a love he can never have.

His stepbrother soon walks into their room and frowns. "Your mom told my dad that you're not eating again."

"Screw off," Alex hisses. His stepbrother ignores that and instead walks over to him, sitting cautiously on the edge of his cot. Despite the fact Alex is a few months older than him, he is still the taller of the two.

"I know you don't want to be my brother, as you've said many times," he says calmly, "but please don't let _me_ stand in the way of your wellbeing."

"I lived in Toulouse up until we moved here," Alex states. "I know how to go days without food and still be fine. So why don't you just mind your own business, huh?"

"Alex..." He puts his head in his hands. "I want to be your _friend,_ I don't want you to hate me. Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't know, _Miles._ Why don't you tell me?"

Miles, the stepbrother in question, raises an eyebrow and purses his lips. "Alex, just talk to me, for god's sake."

"You'll call me insane."

"No, I won't."

"You'll get Mom to lock me away."

 _"No,_ I won't."

"You'll never see me the same again."

Miles sighs and moves closer to Alex. "Just tell me already."

Alex sits up straighter and huffs. "Have you ever felt like you belong somewhere else? Like you're not from _here?"_

Miles nods. "Yes, i know exactly what you mean."

"I think I knew you. In- in a previous life." Alex's mouth feels dry and he can feel his heart pounding so fast, it feels like he's going to die.

Miles's gaze on Alex twitches before he parts his lips slightly and nods. "I do have these dreams sometimes," he says, "about you and me."

Alex smiles. "Oh, so you _do_ know!"

"Of course. We were the best of friends, weren't we?"

Alex pauses, his head shaking. "Miles, um, yes, we were... but that's not really what I mean..."

"I still don't understand why being best friends then would make you hate me now," Miles says.

"Mi, I- I don't hate you, okay? I hate this goddamned _situation_ we're in. We're brothers and I just..."

"Nothing wrong with brothers being friends," Miles says with a confused smile.

"We weren't friends, though. I mean- we were, but..." Alex presses his hands to his head and trembles. Were his memories even correct? "...we were lovers." _Or so I think,_ he adds mentally. _Unless it was merely a desire I had and not an established relationship..._

Miles holds his breath and processes Alex's words. "Lovers, huh?"

"Y-yes."

"And so, you hate this because... you still love me in that sense?"

"Exactly."

Miles bites his tongue, furrowing his eyebrows. It all makes sense now: the dreams of kissing him that he is unable to even confess to the city priest out of shame, the funny feeling in his stomach when Alex looks at him a certain way, the flashes of red he sees when Alex gets too close to him during one of their spats. It all makes sense now and he _hates_ it, he's absolutely _ashamed_ that this is the truth.

"Well, we are stepbrothers now," Miles says at last, ice in his tone. "We can't dwell on the past."

"Mi-"

 _"Brothers,"_ Miles repeats. "And what you feel for me is wrong." He gets up and leaves the room, closing the door loudly behind himself. _Alex should've kept his mouth shut._

Alex sits so his legs are hanging over the side of the bed, chest heaving as his fingers clench around the blankets. A million angry thoughts burn through his mind again and again as he sits there shaking. _Stupid goddamn Miles and stupid goddamn past lives and stupid goddamn_ me.

Alex hesitates, raising his head ever so slightly. _It's me, it's me, I'm the problem. It's always been my fault, all of it. These thoughts are sinful and Mom would be less burdened without me. She can finally be happy with her husband and the better son she's always wanted, the one who eats and is happy and doesn't have disgusting thoughts about his stepbrother. They'll all be so much better without me here._

Alex can't breathe. All he's ever wanted in any of his lives is to be happy, to find Miles and love him like he should. They always get torn apart one way or another, _why do they have to be torn apart?_ He cantbreathecantbreathecantbreathe and it's all too much to handle right now.

_Stop it. Stop the hurting._

He throws open the bedroom door and races across the hall to the room his mother shares with Miles's dad. He opens the drawers of the tiny desk Mr. Kane owns before finding what he's looking for- pain medication. It's expensive and hard to get, he knows, but so be it. It's the only way.

_Stop the hurting._

He rushes into the watercloset and shuts the door, starting up a cold bath. He doesn't have time to warm up the water. He doesn't deserve such luxuries anyways. He submerges himself into the cold tub- his clothes still on and now sticking to his skin but he couldn't care less- and begins messing with the bottle of pain pills. One won't be enough. Two? Three? Four?

He downs half the bottle and shakes his head as tears begin to fall. _No, no, no, not good enough, not good enough._ He finishes the rest of the bottle and throws it aside, now sobbing violently as he tries to slink down into the water fully. He can't do it, he's too scared, _why is he so scared?_

"Stop tearing us apart, you bastard!" he screams at God, at the universe, at nothing and everything all at once. He forces himself to lie down at the bottom of the tub and lets out a silent scream into the water, bubbles rising to the surface before his body makes him gasp for air. But there is no air for him to breathe, only water there to smother him, and so he lets himself go with his dying wish playing again and again in his soul. _Stop tearing us apart. Stop tearing us apart. Stop tearing us apart._

Miles walks into the watercloset, unsure of why the door is jammed shut, but then he sees the tub. He sees the empty bottle on the floor, he sees Alex, and he _screams._ By the time he's reached, it's far too late.

\---

**2007 - U.K.**

"...to where she would have been, if only they were seventeen..."

Alex smiles as they finish off the last line of the song, pulling his headphones off his ears and looking at Miles. "Well, mate, tha' pretty much wraps tha' up!"

They exchange grins as they walk out of the small recording booth together, Miles placing his guitar on its stand. The Last Shadow Puppets have just finished recording their first album and honestly, they couldn't possibly be more excited. "Ye did good, mate," Miles beams. "Not like I ever had any doubts."

After checking in with James and their other producers, they decide on walking across the street from the recording studio to a small café, one full of pretty birds for baristas and great music that always plays through the speakers. Both Miles and Alex have met quite a few good fucks here, to be honest, but never anything more. Neither of them are the type for some Hollywood-style coffeehouse romance.

Once inside, they order their regulars: Alex with his caramel mocha, extra sugar but no whipped cream, and Miles with a simple black coffee, three spoonfuls of sugar stirred around in it.

"So," Alex says, sipping his drink at their table, "tell me: fav'rite song we've recorded?"

"Hmm..." Miles gives Alex a teasing look as he taps his fingers on his coffee cup. "I can't really choose. It's tied between 'Black Plant' an' 'Standing Next To Me'."

Alex smirks and takes another drink, this time a much bigger gulp packed full of sugar and caramel. "Mine's either 'Calm Like You' or 'Standing Next To Me'."

"Then 'Standing' has got t'be the best, obviously."

"Oh, definitely."

They laugh and relax, settling back into their chairs quite comfortably. They can't possibly feel stressed in any way, shape, or form right now. Moments like these are their best moments, when they can simply sit in easy silence and not feel obligated to say anything at all because they simply _know_ what the other is thinking already.

Alex finishes off his drink but doesn't bother disposing of the cup quite yet. He raises his head and stares in Miles's general direction, seeming to be focusing all his attention on one thing. Miles raises an eyebrow and smacks his lips together at the pleasant bitterness of his coffee. "Wha' is it, mate?" He turns and looks behind his chair, his eyes landing on a cute brunette with a pen in her hand. "Oh, are ye lookin' at 'er? She's a nice one, yeah."

Alex just shrugs and gets up to throw away his empty cup. "Yeah, I- she _is_ pretty," he says once he sits back down. He doesn't say anything else on the topic, so Miles takes this as a sign to leave it alone.

"We should go ou' for drinks t'night, yeah?" Alex finally says. "I mean, we deserve it, after all the 'ard work we've done on this bloody recording."

Miles nods in agreement and chews at an aching cuticle on his pinky finger. "Sure thing," he says. "Ye wanna invite anyone else, or jus' us?"

"Jus'... us. If tha''s okay," Alex says quietly. "'ave ye been t'tha' new club downtown? Opened a few weeks ago or some'in'."

"'aven't been there yet, no," Miles replies. "Is tha' where you're wantin' t'go?"

Alex makes a small sound of affirmation and he slowly stands up from his chair. "Meet me there a' ten-ish, okay? I 'ave t'go. I'll text ye." With that, he smiles lightly at Miles and leaves the café in anticipation.

Meanwhile, Miles finishes off his coffee in terrible silence. Clubs worry him and he's not really sure why.

Hours later, Alex stands outside the club, a cigarette in his mouth and his hair blown astray when Miles arrives at five minutes past ten. The music inside the club can be heard from outside, and although it's somewhat obnoxious, Alex tries not to pay any mind to it. When he's drunk off his ass later tonight just like he's planning, it won't matter anymore anyways.

"Hey," Miles breathes once he reaches Alex. "Ye weren't waitin' too long, were ye?"

"Nah. Don't worry 'bout it." Alex smiles softly and takes a final drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke out, away from Miles's face. "Well," he says, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground and stepping on it, "let's go."

They walk to the security guard, show off their IDs with a smile, and enter the building, walking headfirst into a swirl of smoke, alcohol, and drunken people acting just a bit too sexual on the dancefloor.

"Bet you'd look good ou' there," Alex snorts, nudging Miles with his elbow. They walk across the floor to reach the bar, passing tables of people sharing joints and snorting lines of coke. They don't pay these people a second glance. They're not worth their time.

They sit on two stools at the bar and Miles has to yell at Alex over the sound of the music in order for Alex to hear him. "Wha' d'ye want?" he asks.

"'m jus' gettin' a beer for now," Alex replies. Miles orders for both of them and smiles warmly at Alex when they have their drinks in hand.

"Think you're gonna dance?" Miles asks curiously, pressing the lip of his bottle to his mouth.

"Mmm... maybe," Alex says with a wink. Right now, he couldn't be happier. He's having a drink with his best friend, talking just like any friends should be. And he's _definitely not_ thinking of Miles in any way other than a friend. Definitely. (He may have only had a few sips of his beer so far, but he'll blame it on the alcohol anyway.)

"Hey! Are you- are you that Arctic Monkeys guy?" some girl asks, tapping on Alex's shoulder with a single manicured nail. Alex turns around and faces the girl, nodding.

"Ah, yeah, I am. Alex Turner, pleased t'meet ye."

The girl squeals drunkenly and smiles, leaning in maybe just a little too close to Alex's face. "I know you're famous and all, but uh, would you... dance with me? Maybe?"

Alex shoots Miles a curious glance, but Miles simply nods, giving him a look that says _go on._ Alex answers with a simple, "Sure, why not?" and takes another drink of his beer before following the girl out to the floor.

Miles shouldn't feel jealous. Alex is his friend, it's not like he feels _that way_ about him at all. He's not jealous. He's not jealous in the slightest.

Okay, maybe he's a _little_ jealous.

He finishes off his beer and sighs quietly, watching everyone dance to the music that sounds more like just a series of annoying high-pitched sounds. He can't spot Alex anywhere, so either he's shagging that girl in the bathroom or he's just blending in with everyone else quite skillfully. Miles really doesn't want to think about the first option. Instead, he tells himself to go find someone and dance with them, maybe get lucky like Alex likely is right now and forget about his stupid feelings. It's just a dumb crush. Happens between friends all the time, right?

Or maybe he's just a fucking idiot.

He slowly paces himself across the floor and ignores all the stoners and crack addicts asking him if he wants a "go at it". He doesn't want any damn drugs. He wants ~~Alex~~ to dance.

A short girl with breath that smells like a strange mixture of mint, raspberries, and pot practically throws herself at Miles, taking him by surprise. He doesn't want to dance with _her._ Someone slightly less intoxicated will do.

However, just as he sees another girl come his way, all of a sudden, _Alex_ appears out of nowhere and Miles's eyes widen. The girl that he went to dance with earlier is gone now. "Al, hey, wha' 'appened to-"

"Miles, 'm goin' t'kiss ye, okay?" Alex blurts it out in such a rush that saying Miles is taken off guard would be an understatement. Before he can process a proper response through his mind, Alex has one hand on his face, the other on his waist. Miles lets Alex pull himself closer and their faces are so painfully close, their lips not even a centimeter apart. Miles takes in the cigarette smoke and beer on Alex's breath and _yes,_ he thinks, _this is good._ This is what he wants.

Alex kisses him and Miles feels like he's falling, Alex's arms being the only things to keep him in place. Something about this feels like more than just a simple kiss, though. Time slows down, the music suddenly isn't playing anymore, and nobody else is there at all as Miles lets himself drown in the entirety of Alex. The kiss has a kind of electric spark to it and it's pulling them closer, closer, _closer,_ and Alex can feel it, too. This moment feels like they've been waiting on it not for only a couple years but an entire _eternity._

And oh, god, they have.

It's not exactly clear how it happens, but by the time they break out of their trance, they're suddenly in Miles's flat and everything is going right. Alex takes one last look at Miles as he's pressed up against the bedroom door and he lets out a heavy exhale.

"Oh my god," he whispers. "It's you. It's you, it's always been you."

Miles holds his arms around Alex's waist and he presses their foreheads together. "'m so sorry abou' ev'rything," he says in a hushed tone. "'m sorry."

"Shut up," Alex demands. "Shut. Up." He kisses Miles senseless and tangles his fingers in his hair, wrapping his legs around his hips as Miles carries him over to the bed. Alex holds onto Miles tightly, almost fearing that if he lets go, this won't be real anymore and they'll get torn apart once again.

"Are ye sure ye want t'do this?" Miles asks minutes later as he hovers over a half-naked Alex on his bed.

"I've been waitin' for ye for a million lifetimes," Alex says, wrapping his arms around Miles's neck. "'m more than sure."

Miles takes his own sweet time as he prepares Alex, nipping at his neck and taking it nice and slow with each dip in and out of Alex with his fingers. Every move he makes draws out long mewls from Alex's lips, causing Miles to slow down every now and then and ask if he's all right. And, of course, Alex is more than all right. He's fucking perfect.

When the time comes that Alex deems himself completely ready, Miles gives him a short kiss on his lips before readying himself to enter him. "I love you," he whispers, giving Alex's forehead a sweet kiss as he holds each of his hands quite tightly, pushing into him nice and slow. Alex gasps quietly and pulls Miles back into a kiss, trying to stifle his noises with Miles's mouth.

"Ye make such gorgeous noises, don't try an' hide 'em," Miles whispers against Alex's collar, resulting in a relatively loud moan to echo through the room. This, the moment they're sharing right here and right now, neither of them want to forget it; not one single detail of it can ever leave their minds.

As Miles slowly moves his hips back and forth, Alex pants quietly, hands snaking up and down Miles's back with his fingernails scratching his skin gently. "God, Mi..." he whispers shakily, moving his own hips in sync. "Fuck, _fuck_ yes..."

Miles brushes Alex's hair out of his eyes and kisses him deeply, their mouths moving terribly slowly against one another, tongues acting as two dancers moving quite elegantly together. Miles grips Alex's hips tightly, but not enough to hurt him, and makes a thrust into one particular spot that has Alex moaning and sputtering for air. "Oh, g-god, _Mi,"_ he cries out, forming fists in Miles's hair. "Righ' there, _yes,_ ah- ah- ah..."

"Ye feel so good, darlin'," Miles says sweetly. "So, so good. You're doin' great, yeah?"

Alex nods and cries out in a moan once more as Miles hits his sweet spot again and again. "Y-yes-ss..." he whimpers, soon enough finding himself at a complete loss of words.

"D'ye feel good?"

"Mm-hhmm..." Alex nods, and that's really all he can manage to do in order to communicate now. Miles has completely unwound him and he absolutely _adores_ it.

Miles quiets Alex with yet another gentle, long kiss and as he feels himself nearing his release, he uses his hand to pump Alex in time with each thrust he delivers him. He currently has Alex gripping at the sheets, at his hair, at anything and everything he can hold onto as he cries out _yes, yes, yes_ and _oh god, Mi, again, again, yes!_

They come at the same time with each other's names cried out in beautifully loud moans, leaving both of them panting as Miles pulls out and flops on his back next to Alex.

They get cleaned up somewhat, at least doing what they can in the state that they're currently in, and soon enough, Miles brings Alex into his arms to hold him close to his chest, pressing gentle kisses to his hair.

For once in all his lives, Alex isn't afraid to close his eyes. With Miles's arms holding him close, their body heat being shared lovingly under the sheets, Alex feels safe. He feels content.

Just before he and Miles fall asleep, he opens his eyes and stares out the window above Miles's bed, looking at the stars scattered all across the pitch black sky. "Thank you," he whispers. At last, his prayer has been answered.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://spookymileskane.tumblr.com) / [instagram](http://instagr.am/and.a.smile)


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